


Coffee

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/F, F/M, FitzSkimmons - Freeform, Multi, Polyamory, Puppy Love & Fluff Everywhere, Shield-Free AU, UA, academy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I like her, and you like her, who’s flying the plane?”</p><p>-</p><p>Jemma Simmons is happily in a relationship with Fitz, but she might also be falling a little for his friend Daisy, who she's helping to tutor. She decides to talk through it with him before things get too complicated, and as it turns out, honesty might be the best policy for all three of them after all. G/K+</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the Compersion Collection for my other poly FitzSkimmons fics.
> 
> I'm accepting prompts here (via comment) or on Tumblr (theclaravoyant). Enjoy!

“See here, you forgot to carry the – the coefficient,”

Simmons stammered as her hand brushed against Daisy’s and she felt a tingle run down to her core. Taking a deep breath, she shook off the feeling. 

“Sorry. Not the coefficient. I mean, see here, how you’ve added this up to 61, it should actually be 70. That one is actually a ten.”

Daisy sighed. 

“I know how to add,” she muttered, scrubbing at the equation with an eraser.

“I know, sorry,” Simmons apologised, and tucked her hair behind her ears and stepped away, coming to sit back down with the corner of the table separating them. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember the simple things when attempting something more complex, that’s all. Especially when the simple things haven’t been grounded well. It’s not your fault.”

“Thanks.” Daisy sighed, letting her pencil drop as she stared at the numbers before her. “I’m never going to get this.”

“You’re doing really well,” Simmons assured her. “You got the last one right!” 

“One! Yay!” Daisy cheered sarcastically. 

Simmons pursed her lips for a second, and then reached out and put her hand over Daisy’s, where it held the pencil. Ignoring the flush she felt rise in her cheeks, she insisted; 

“You can do this.” 

Daisy met her eyes for a long, solemn moment. Simmons was entranced, until it ended with a snap when Daisy pulled away.

“I’ll finish this one, and then can we call it a night?” 

“Sure. Okay.”

-

On the train on the way home, Simmons pressed her hands to her cheeks. This was not the first time she’d blushed and flustered around Daisy, but it was the first time it had lingered this long. Her face still felt hot. But maybe that was because her hands were so cold? Or maybe it was because of the way her life was rapidly turning into a sitcom.

She’d moved to a new city in a new country, slipped on ice and dropped her books on the way to class and been assisted by – gasp! – a fellow Brit, with whom she’d proceeded to develop a relationship. She had an eclectic collection of neighbours with whom she’d somehow accidentally yet intimately bonded and it was as if they shared their apartments between them. And now, she was getting all flustered about the student she was supposed to be tutoring! It was all brushed hands and close proximity, and letting her mind stray a few steps ahead to where the lights were dim and they were even closer… 

Scratch that, she scolded herself, and clenched her fists. Her life was turning from a sitcom into a soap opera, and there was only one way to turn it back. 

Tell Fitz, before anything could become of it. Tell Fitz, so that she would have to express and think through everything, and in doing so she’d come to know whether or not she could trust herself to carry on tutoring in a meaningful and present manner and without having to take a cold shower afterward. And of course, tell Fitz because he and Daisy were friends too, and she couldn’t help but feel that she was betraying that somehow.

 _You’re making too much of this,_ a quiet thought insisted as she jogged from the station toward their apartments, eager to escape the night air. _You should just put it behind you. Get over it. There’s no need to stress or bother him._

Simmons bit her lip as she tugged off her mittens and searched for her key, trying to shut out the deceptively reassuring thoughts on her way up the stairs. Secrets were where trouble lay. That much she knew. And if indeed it was not a big deal – and it wasn’t, yet, it just had the potential, which she was determined to shut down – then why should she be afraid to tell him?

Still, when Fitz heard her opening the door, and pulled it open for her instead, she couldn’t help but feel like she had been caught out in something. Apparently, she must have looked it too, because Fitz’ expression of joyful greeting turned into curiosity and concern. 

“Jemma, hi. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” she assured him, a little breathless with surprise and a sense of relief that the conversation had been opened up, and she could more easily convince herself not to drag it out. “But I do want to talk to you about something. I think I have a bit of a…crush on Daisy.” 

“Oh.” Fitz took a moment to absorb it, and then laughed, relieved. “Oh, that’s all.” 

“All?” Simmons repeated, incredulous. Fitz gestured for her to come inside and she followed without thought, still puzzling over his lightheartedness. Then again, upon reflection, she had spiralled so far in her mind as to have basically already slept with Daisy - a _fait accompli_ \- when all it really was, was as she’d said. A little crush.

“Well, sure,” Fitz offered, gesturing enthusiastically as he moved about the kitchen, preparing tea while Simmons stripped off her winter layers far more slowly and absently than she usually would, distracted by her thoughts and the melodrama she had created from them. 

“I mean,” Fitz continued, “she’s absolutely brilliant for one thing. Sure, she had a terrible formal education and she dropped out for a while but she’s really incredibly smart. She hacked into the school’s servers to learn Mandarin with a $200 craptop she won in a _bet._ And she’s really passionate too. And scrappy as all hell – I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it, but she picked a fight with these guys who were bullying Mike the other day, it was amazing- What?”  
  
He paused in his recount and looked over to where Simmons had started snickering with laughter. 

“With heart eyes like that, maybe you’re the one with a crush on her,” Simmons remarked. 

“I don’t deny it.” Fitz smirked. Simmons raised an eyebrow. 

“Seriously?”

“Don’t get me wrong, we’re really great friends,” Fitz clarified, “but isn’t that the best foundation for a relationship, after all?” 

With one hand, he gestured to himself and Simmons as if to demonstrate, while with the other he poured out the tea. Simmons smiled, and drew her cup toward herself with a thoughtful hum.

“Well,” she posited, “if I like her, and you like her, who’s flying the plane?”

Fitz sipped his tea slowly, studying her expression. 

“…Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“What might that be?” 

“We both fly the plane.” 

“…I don’t think I’m following. And I didn’t put milk in this.” Simmons screwed her nose up. Seamlessly, Fitz moved to the fridge to fetch the milk for her as he clarified: 

“What if we could both go out with Daisy?” 

Simmons snorted.

“I think Daisy might have something to say about that.” 

“What if that something is yes?”

Fitz’ eyes were wide and shining, excited, as he set the milk down on the bench with a definitive slap. Simmons nodded thoughtfully as she poured.

“I’m listening.” 

“We’d have to make sure it’s not weird, and definitely that it doesn’t look like it involves cheating or it’s just about sex, but I think we could do it…” 

“Before you launch into the next Great Escape,” Simmons interrupted, “is Daisy even interested?”

Fitz took a deep breath and held it, thinking.

“…Maybe,” he decided. “I mean, I’ve seen some things around both of us that could be read that way. And she knows we’re taken; if she was interested, she might not have wanted to show it openly. And we might not have seen it, because we weren't looking for it.” 

“True.”

“Besides - nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?” 

“Also true.” Simmons bit her lip for a moment before letting the tremor of anticipation building up inside, light up her face with a grin. She raised her teacup in a toast. “Here we go, then.”

-

The next day, Fitz weaved through the crowd flooding into the lecture theatre, to catch up with Daisy. His limbs bounced sporadically with excitement and he couldn’t quite sit still as he waited for everyone to file in.

“Jemma will be here any minute,” he whispered to Daisy, who frowned.

“Simmons doesn’t do computing.” 

“I know,” Fitz whispered back. “We wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Oh.” Daisy felt a blush rising up the back of her neck. “Look, Fitz, if this is about last night, I didn’t mean anything by it…” 

“Anything by what?” 

“What do you mean, by what?”

“What happened last night?” 

They stared at each other for a moment in wide-eyed confusion, and then at the same time, demanded: 

“What are you talking about?” 

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Daisy amended, and it would have moved them on if all their questions and answers were not so wrapped up in each other. Fitz studied her expression carefully.

“Do you like Jemma? I mean, do you _like_ her?” 

Daisy blushed, and ducked her face under her hair, and fiddled with the binding on her notebook. 

“Yeah, maybe, but like I said, I’d never do anything, I mean she’s got you, obviously, and then I don’t even know if she’s, y’know, interested, or- not that it matters, because she’s taken -“ 

“She is.” Fitz resisted grinning any broader. “Interested, I mean. Not taken. Although that too. But not completely.”

Daisy frowned, confused. 

“You lost me.”

At that moment, Simmons bounded down the stairs toward them and leapt gleefully into a nearby seat. 

“Daisy!” she greeted enthusiastically. “Hello!” 

“Are you two both being weird for a reason? If this is about me checking you out the other day, or paying for drinks, or whatever…”

“You checked me out?” Simmons wondered.

“You paid for her drinks?” 

“No, I paid for yours, remember..?” 

Daisy trailed off, and glanced between them. They didn’t seem the slightest bit angry, or annoyed. They definitely were far from upset, and even their confusion seemed to have faded. As Daisy watched, Fitz and Simmons high-fived in front of her face. 

“Alright. What’s going on?”

She swiped their hands out of the way, fixing their attention on her. Fitz and Simmons shared a glance of silent communication, and a moment later, Fitz spoke.

“Daisy…Jemma and I were wondering if you’d like to get coffee sometime?” 

Daisy studied his face, and his words. They’d had coffee plenty of times, but not Coffee. Not ‘do you _like_ her?’ coffee. Not, ‘you checked me out?’ coffee. Not date coffee. He – _they_ – were asking her out.

“Coffee?” she checked.

“Yes,” Fitz confirmed, inclining his head to confirm Daisy’s implied suspicions. 

“With…both of you?” Daisy checked. 

“Yes,” Simmons insisted, dragging her nervous eyes away from Fitz’ to walk out onto that proverbial limb and look at Daisy.

“Like as a date.”

“Yes.” 

“Exactly.”

Daisy glanced between their smiling faces, and smiled herself.

“That sounds great.”


End file.
